Fragments
by Her Ghost Eyes
Summary: "You know," she whispers finally, "if – if we had more time, I could learn to love you, James Carstairs."


I have so much Infernal Devices pent up angst and this is what came out. Something I wrote in an hour. Ignore any emotionally induced mistakes. I recommend listening to "Not Alone" by Red while listening to this. Shh, just do it.

As usual, everything is Cassie Clare's. Sigh.

ooo

_Your heart is full of broken dreams_  
><em> Just a fading memory<em>  
><em> And everything's gone but the pain carries on<em>

ooo

Tessa isn't sure how it happens.

One minute, she's sitting on the roof, her feet dangling over the edge. There's a nice view from here, and she can watch the people wander pass, completely oblivious to the great, antediluvian body of the Institute. It's pleasant up here, and she can take a moment to breathe. While the Institute is vast, sometimes it feels too cramped, like the walls might close in on her at any second.

Especially lately.

Tessa has never allowed herself to become particularly invested in a romance, never once let anything go further than a couple of quick smiles and stolen kisses. But this is different. Jem makes her feel so happy, so warm inside, like a fire ignited inside her stomach that spreads until she's one mass of warmth. And then there's Will. He pretends to be an utterly normal good looking – albeit conceited – young man, but there's something about the way he watches her, the way his mouth tugs up at the corner in a mix of affection and guarded looks.

Sometimes, she wonders why she even bothers with him. She does that a lot of the time, to tell the truth. She has never felt this confused before; how is it possible for Will to make her so hungry, filled with so much yearning, and for Jem to make her feel so loved, so alive and so happy?

She's not sure she'll ever understand it.

Tessa has become so attuned to people randomly turning up that she doesn't even flinch when the trapdoor swings open, softly hitting the roof. It shuts almost as quickly as it's opened, with an almost inaudible click. She knows it's not Will from the way the person is careful to be quiet, to not disturb her, to not throw biting comments at her back – and…she feels oddly relieved.

"You okay?" Jem questions as he sits down next to her, his thigh pressing against hers, sending waves of heat through her body.

Tessa feels her heart begin to thrum violently in her chest and ignores it, looking out over the horizon. "Jem, can I ask you a weird question?" she murmurs finally, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears.

She feels more than _sees _him nod, and waits a second before finally saying, "Do you ever – I don't know. Do you ever regret not being able to be normal? I mean…the Shadowhunting…the constant thrill. It sure keeps you sharp" – Jem smiles faintly – "but do you ever wish you could just lead a life of normality? No killing, no running, no…"

Her voice trails off. She sounds ridiculous. She knows that. But she can't help it – there's a yearning in her gut, yearning for the parents she'd grown up with, for her old brother, yearning for the life she left behind – or the life that left _her _behind.

Jem wraps his arm around her, and she doesn't fight him, merely basks in the comfort she feels with her head nestled into his chest. "All the time, Tessa," he says finally, his voice soft. "All the time. But I do love it. It's what I was born to do." He sighs. "We save lives, Tessa. That's all I could possibly ask for out of life."

There's silence for a while, long, comfortable silence in which both the companies look out over London, absorbing the peacefulness, the familiar clacking of horses' hooves against stone and the constant buzz of chatter.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Will?" Jem questions her suddenly. His voice isn't curious, not searching – if anything, it's merely wondering. Concerned. Will hasn't been ignoring her the past few weeks, per se – he's gone back to the old him. And she _hates _it. She absolutely _hates it. _

After the way he let his guard down around her, the least he could do was soften a little, be more understanding or open. But no, he remains his old, guarded self, and sometimes she has to wonder if he merely loathes her by the way he sometimes stares at her too long and then turns his gaze icy when she meets his looks.

"I went to see him," Tessa says in a soft, heavy voice. Tears threaten to spill over, and her voice is husky from the will of trying not to cry. "I was thrilled, you see – Charlotte said that I could stay, and I wanted to tell him. I found him on the roof, expecting him to be happy for me." She forces a smile, humourless and bland. "He wasn't."

Jem's eyes flash with something that she would mistake for anger if she didn't know him. The boy was too easy-going, never angry at anyone, let alone his parabatai. Resentment, maybe. "He's not a bad person, Tessa," he murmurs quietly. "Just scared."

Tessa tries to laugh, but it sounds painful, breaking through the quiet exchange like a knife. "Yes, I know," she says, even though she doesn't. But she doesn't blame Will – and she hates that. She hates that she can't blame him for letting her down. She absolutely _hates _it.

"I told him – well," Tessa stutters out, not entirely sure she should be telling this to Jem, knowing that she'll sound nonsensical and weak. "I told him I cared for him." She feels a blush creep into her cheeks. "I told him I cared for him, and he asked me whether we should use his room or mine."

The words sound bitter on her lips, alien. They make her tongue uncomfortable as it twists around the cold words, make her lips burn with the burden they carry.

Jem sighs, deep in his chest. "I'm sorry, Tessa." He looks sorry, too – she doesn't want that. She wants an _answer _to this mess, not an apology for something that isn't even his fault. "Will can be a bastard sometimes, I know. But he's just trying to cover up."

Tessa manages a confused, "Cover up what?"

Jem presses his lips tightly together, but doesn't answer her.

"Will you do me a favour?" he says instead, his voice distant. There's something in his expression, something that makes her want to smooth the creases from his face, bring some warmth into his otherwise pale cheeks.

"Anything," Tessa says immediately.

For Jem, anything.

Jem smiles wryly. "I could be about to ask you to strip down to your undergarments and dance to one of Henry's old folk tunes." His eyes are dancing as they look upon her.

"I'd be willing to do that, if it was a life or death situation," she says solemnly, trying to fight the smile that tugs at her lips. She mocks a gruff, low voice, "'Do the dance or we'll shoot!'"

Jem laughs loudly, freely, even though it's an awful joke and they both know it, and after a moment, Tessa joins in, too. When their laughter finally quietens, she finds him watching her with dark eyes. "I'm going to miss you," he tells her.

She scowls at him. "No, you're not," she says flatly, "because you're not going anywhere."

Jem just looks sad as he watches her, his eyes like crystal glaciers dripping with ice, and it looks painfully like he's trying not to cry himself. This startles Tessa – she has never thought Jem was _able _to cry. It sounds cruel, but she doesn't mean it bitterly – he's merely too calm, too laid back to show such sadness.

"I am, Tessa. And you're going to have to let me go." He brings up his hand to her face, his thumb rubbing against her cheek gently. "I want you to look after Will when I die, Tessa. He always gets himself into such messes. I don't know how he's going to survive without me." Jem tries to smile, but fails terribly.

She fights back a choked sob, and a startled expression flits across his face. He whispers, sounding broken, "Don't cry, Tessa."

Tessa lifts her hand to her face, and, much to her horror, she feels it come away wet, salty droplets slipping down her fingertips. Jem reaches a hand to brush away a tear from her cheek.

He blinks, long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks - and then a tear escapes, slipping down his cheek. He doesn't start openly sobbing or anything; just one tear, one tear that shines in the moonlight and hits the concrete of the roof silently.

And then Tessa just can't take it anymore.

The pain, the grief, the fear. She merely can't take it.

She leans forward, pressing her lips to his, feeling the soft, velvety feel of his lips beneath hers. He stiffens for a moment and then relaxes, his arms intertwining around her, pulling her to him. Tessa pushes him gently and they inch further away from the corner of the roof. It would be a great way to die, should one have to die, but she's not quite ready for that yet.

His tears mingle with hers, a mess of sadness and grief and hope and it's so lovely and yet so disastrous, like watching a beautiful flower fly away with the wind.

"I'm sorry," Jem is whispering against her lips, his voice urgent and yet barely inaudible. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She pulls back for air, and they lock eyes. Something passes between them, a tiny flicker of understanding that appears to shift the whole universe, making Tessa feel like she's just ran a mile. "I'll look after Will," she tells him quietly.

"And yourself," he reminds her with a small smile. "You better look after yourself, or I'm coming back to haunt you."

Tessa laughs, but it sort of breaks off half way, merging into a sob and he's staring at her with wide, honest eyes and she's not sure she's ever felt something so painfully beautiful –

They don't talk about the kiss, what it means. They don't need to. The silence is enough. There's no future for either of them – Jem's death grasps at him with its fumbling hands, and Tessa's eternity doesn't feel like a future, but a curse, a curse that has been forced upon her with harsh, callous hands.

"You know," she whispers finally, her voice rough and unfamiliar to her own ears, "if – if we had more time, I could learn to love you, James Carstairs."

He laughs quietly, as if something about this is greatly funny, and they sit in silence for a few moments. Eventually, Tessa rises to her feet, preparing to leave with a soft goodbye. Jem turns, twisting just a little, and calls, "Hey, Tessa?"

She pauses at the trapdoor, turning to look at him. She raises her eyebrows. "Yes?"

He figures he has nothing to lose. "I learned to love you a long time ago."

She bites down her lip, lightly, her eyes shining in the dimming light. "You don't deserve this cruel fate, Jem," she tells him softly. "You have so much love, so much good inside of you. I can't lose you."

Jem smiles at her, and it's a small smile, but at least it's a smile. "You won't lose me," he says, and he climbs to his feet, walking over to her until they stand nose-to-nose. "I'll always be with you," he whispers in her ear. He takes one of her small, delicate hands in his and presses it to her chest. "Right here."

Tessa feels her eyes well up again and presses her lips to his, so he can't break her heart with any more of his beautiful words. He holds her, and she forgets that she was ever going to leave, sinking into his embrace. Tomorrow will be different, and they'll be back to fighting demons, inside and out, and careful looks and fathomless gazes, but...

For now, there's only understanding silence and long, desperate kisses.

And for now, that's okay.


End file.
